


Clearance

by Sineala



Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Avengers Vol. 8 (2018), Flirting, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:07:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24555142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sineala/pseuds/Sineala
Summary: Just an ordinary evening of two good friends pining, flirting harmlessly, and punching Flag Smasher in the face. But what if no one's joking about the flirting?
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 104
Kudos: 703





	Clearance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mizzy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mizzy/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Mizzy! Please enjoy a small current-canon ficlet!
> 
> Thanks to Blossom for the beta.

"You're not supposed to be here right now," Tony said, as he edged around the corrugated-metal corner of the warehouse.

It was night, and he was standing in the shadows, and as a further ode to attempted stealthiness he'd turned off every light in the armor, even the unibeam and the eye slits -- but Steve didn't even jump. Of course he didn't.

Tony could just barely see the shield glinting in the dark, and he could only see Steve if he switched to night vision. Steve could probably see him anyway.

"Neither are you," Steve returned.

"Yes," Tony pointed out, "but I don't have your flawless moral standards to live up to. Who knew Captain America was such a rule-breaker?" He clicked his tongue. "Naughty."

It was a joke, of course, because they both knew -- some of them with less amnesia than others -- that Steve did what was right and not necessarily what was legal. And here was further proof.

Steve shrugged half a shrug and gave Tony that devil-may-care twitch of a smile that always made Tony want to do things like declare his undying love. So far, he'd managed to refrain. "Well, I wasn't about to get on the comms at the Mountain and say that I was running an unauthorized op on Staten Island when we have no general American clearance anymore, and would anyone like to come with me? T'Challa would have said no."

"Nobody tells you no."

" _You_ do," Steve said, almost fondly.

"And yet," Tony said, pressing himself a little closer to the side of the warehouse and thereby closer to Steve, "here I am, at your service, and it's not even date night. We could have been going skinny-dipping in the Mountain hot springs again if you'd played your cards right."

Steve made a weird and sort of pained-looking face, and Tony sternly told himself to stop flirting.

"Did you ever consider that this was a setup for you?" he asked, trying to drag himself back on track. Right. Focus. Mission. He could handle a mission. "Last I checked, Flag Smasher wasn't even _alive_. This is probably another LMD."

Unslinging his shield, Steve gave another diffident shrug. "Do you trust the Squadron Supreme to do anything right? Because I sure don't."

"True," Tony said. That was probably enough talking for right now. "I go high, you go low?"

"Sounds good," Steve said, and gave him a courteous three seconds to get all his lights and repulsors back on before he sprang forward, turned, and charged the open warehouse doorway.

One of the best parts of working with Steve -- other than _dat ass_ , obviously, Tony thought, as he admired Steve run -- was that they'd fought together so long that at this point they barely had to say anything.

When Tony turned into the warehouse doorway he immediately regretted not offering to take _low_ , because what passed for ground level here was only a narrow catwalk above a cement floor that looked to be about twenty feet down, and naturally Steve vaulted over the railing without hesitation.

"Hi, boys," Steve said, presumably to Flag Smasher and whichever hired goons were present. "Expecting me?"

"I was hoping for it," said a voice that must have belonged to Flag Smasher -- the downside of the guy being one of Steve's villains was that Tony didn't know him all that well. But he recognized that universal constant: sadistic supervillain glee. "And, I see, you were foolish enough to come alone. Do you really think you can escape the trap I've laid for you?"

Right. That was definitely enough of that. Tony stepped forward to the edge of the railing and held up his hands, letting the repulsors charge. Flag Smasher's head snapped up at the whining noise, and Tony savored the muttered obscenity.

"I'm guessing you weren't expecting me, though," Tony said, and he fired.

He hit Flag Smasher right in the chest, and the man -- LMD? whatever, Tony didn't care -- went down like a sack of potatoes.

There were still a few goons on the floor, but they weren't going to be a threat, and Steve could undoubtedly take care of them all by himself. Tony relaxed, lowered his hands--

\--and he was very, very surprised when two men he hadn't seen came from behind and shoved him over the railing.

Why hadn't he performed a basic scan of the warehouse on the way in? The thought entered his mind as he fell, as he realized he was probably going to hit the floor before he was flight-capable.

Oh, right. He'd been staring at Steve.

"Tony!" Steve yelled, and there was real panic in his voice.

The flight system kicked in, off balance, when Tony was three inches from the floor. He flung his arms out, tucked his head in, and then watched the simulated ground on the HUD spin wildly as he flipped over onto his back and skidded across the floor, smacking his head into a pole.

He was dimly aware of Steve's shield sailing across the room somewhere above him, as Steve neatly took out the last of their assailants. Steve raised a hand for the shield on the rebound, caught it, and then kept running toward Tony.

"I think somebody turned out the lights," Tony said, trying for levity, as the HUD flickered and died.

Steve hissed several very un-Captain America words under his breath and lifted Tony's faceplate up. His fingertips roved almost tenderly over Tony's face, and then he tugged Tony's eye a little wider with one thumb, checking his pupils.

"That was a joke," Tony said, hurriedly but apparently not fast enough. "I don't have a concussion." Probably. His head kind of hurt.

Steve was glaring. "In this house we don't joke about concussions, mister."

"Okay," Tony said, and he poked Steve in the shoulder with one armored finger, missing a little, and getting his upper arm instead. That probably should have been concerning, but Tony really didn't care. He'd had worse. "One, neither of us owns our current team residence, two, we are actually in an incredibly sketchy warehouse, and three, I can joke about whatever I want and you can't stop me."

"I wish I could," Steve said, his tone just this side of mournful.

"You do not. You'd be so frustrated if I agreed with you all the time."

"Point taken," Steve said, like he could just put all the fights they'd ever had behind him with two words, and for some reason he was still petting Tony's face. Tony wasn't about to tell him to stop. "I'm sorry, I just-- how the hell did you not see them coming?"

"I was staring at your ass," Tony blurted out, and oh, shit, maybe he did have a concussion because that was the thing he wasn't supposed to say, that was definitely one of the things he wasn't ever supposed to say--

There was an excruciating five seconds of silence. Steve sighed and pulled his cowl back. His hair was sticking up. It was, unfortunately, endearing. Tony had spent a whole decade being gone on him, so he did have some experience in the area. Steve's glare was less endearing.

"Look," Steve said, finally. "I know you think it's, I don't know, funny, but I wish you wouldn't say things you didn't mean--"

Didn't mean? Didn't _mean_? What the hell? He was here baring his heart and Steve didn't even think it was the truth?

"I meant it."

Steve stopped, halfway through his sentence, his mouth hanging open.

"Didn't exactly mean to tell you like that," Tony confessed, because now that he'd started he was damned anyway, so why not keep going? "Didn't exactly mean to tell you at all, but _oh, shit, Flag Smasher's up again_ \--"

Steve was still crouching at his side, and now, in a reversal of irony, Tony was the one distracting him. He hadn't seen Flag Smasher starting to move, returning to consciousness, rising up behind him.

At this rate this was looking to be the world's worst love confession. Flag Smasher was lumbering to his feet, and Steve, still wide-eyed and stunned, spun around and raised his shield high. Tony raised a hand. Nope. Repulsors still offline, and, ugh, half the suit servos too. He wasn't even going to be able to stand up like this. Steve was on his own. And, oh, God, Steve knew he was in love with him.

Flag Smasher actually got in a hit, weaving past the shield; Steve staggered backwards, clearly not up to his usual standards. If he got taken down by _Flag Smasher_ because of Tony's unfortunate confession -- well, that was going to make the night even worse.

"You thought you'd bested me!" Flag Smasher declaimed, launching himself forward. "But you haven't seen the last of-- ugh!"

Vibranium rang out, and, thank God, that was Steve swinging the shield directly at Flag Smasher's head, knocking him out cold. Hopefully this time he was going to stay that way.

Steve wiped one gloved hand through his hair and turned back to Tony.

"So," Steve said. He bit his lip. "Uh. You were saying?"

Oh, God. "You can ignore what I was saying," Tony said. He was acutely conscious that he was still lying here on the ground, in a broken suit. Vulnerable. "I mean, you don't feel the same way about me and that's-- that's fine."

The word _fine_ squeezed past Tony's tight throat, but at least he'd gotten the lie out.

It wasn't fine, but that was life. That was all it was. Steve didn't want him, because no one he loved loved him back, not the way he wanted, no matter how hard he tried--

A muscle in Steve's jaw worked. "And how do you know how I feel about you?"

"I know a lot of things, Cap," Tony said, too worn out and tired to come up with anything wittier than that. "I'm a futurist. It's kind of in the job description."

"Mmm," Steve said, thoughtfully. "You ever considered the idea that you might be wrong about that particular fact?"

Before Tony could really process what was happening, Steve was crouching down again, leaning in. Steve's mouth was warm on his, a brief kiss that promised more. Tony wasn't entirely sure that he hadn't imagined it.

"Steve?"

"Believe me, I'd love to talk about this some more right now," Steve said, like he hadn't just put _his mouth on Tony's mouth_ , "but I think we'd better leave before the feds show up." He looked at the rest of Tony as if he was finally seeing the condition of his armor for the first time. "Can you walk?"

"Nope," Tony said, cheerfully.

Steve looked unfazed. Steve was, in fact, smiling at him. Steve had kissed him. Steve had really kissed him.

Slinging his shield on his back, Steve promptly hoisted Tony in his arms, a six-hundred-pound bridal carry. He wasn't even breathing hard. "Well, it's about a mile to where I parked the Quinjet, and much as I'd like to get you out of that armor right now, I think it's probably safer to get us out of US airspace first."

Tony raised his eyebrows as Steve carried him toward the closest set of stairs. "And then it's time for the striptease, right?"

Steve looked down at him and smiled a positively _lascivious_ smile that made all the blood in Tony's body start heading south. "I'm counting on it."

It didn't have to be a joke anymore. That-- well, that opened up so many more possibilities.

The rest of the evening -- and possibly the rest of Tony's life -- was definitely looking up.

**Author's Note:**

> The usual [Tumblr post](https://sineala.tumblr.com/post/620093594614775808/fic-clearance).


End file.
